


Heaven Only Lets a Few In

by LifeInAColorWheel



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Blowjobs, C137cest, Chair Sex, College student morty, Fluff, Hurt Rick, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jealous Rick, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Morty is only aged up like a year or two - Freeform, Pining, Sad Morty, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeInAColorWheel/pseuds/LifeInAColorWheel
Summary: Morty is going away to college next year, and Rick evidently does not know how to handle that. He makes his best attempts to push Morty away to avoid hurting either of them. Morty, however, is not helping by trying to get closer.





	Heaven Only Lets a Few In

It was late in the evening and upstairs, Morty was working on homework. Downstairs, in the basement, Rick was similarly working on science stuff that—despite the AP science classes that Morty tried to fit into his schedule—was still far beyond him.

It had grown dark out by then. Morty still had his books spilled out across the table, all open with pencils and papers strewn alongside them. His homework load had been more out of control than he had anticipated; with senior year starting, he had bitten off more than he could chew in regards to his advanced classes.

Morty was a mere fourth of the way through his AP Chem assignment. The basement door came flying open, hitting the wall behind it as his grandpa made his way into the room.

“R-Rick?” Morty asked. “You okay?”

Rick staggered in with a dazed look. He rubbed his eyes as he attempted to focus. Then, he looked down at the homework spilled across the table. “Hey, Morty,” he mumbled. “What are you doing, Morty?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Rick?” Morty didn’t look up from his assignment. “I-I have a lot of homework. I have college applications soon, you know?”

Rick gave a half-scoff, half-laugh. “That’s—that’s just as bad as high school, Morty," he said. "It’s more people of roughly the same IQ going to one spot and paying for another piece of paper.”

Morty gave him an annoyed look, pulling his homework closer to him. “Well, Rick, even if you don’t agree with it, I have to go.”

Rick was now rummaging through the cabinets, batteries and blinking lights and shiny objects falling out as he searched for what he needed for whatever gadget he was building. 

“College is just more of the same work. That’s it. Same schoolwork, except you’ll be running on shots instead of Red Bull,” he said, walking over to him. He put one hand on the table in another attempt to hold himself up. 

“Yeah,” Morty shifted in his chair. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go.”

“They’re just going to teach you the same things they taught you in highschool,” Rick muttered again. He began to rummage through his things on the counter. 

Morty looked up. “What’s your problem?,” he asked, a challenge in his voice now. When Rick did not reply, he continued. “Do you want to hold me back or something? Have me spend the entirety of my adult life flying off for more adventures?”

“Why do you ask? A-are my adventures too much for you?” Rick poured more vodka into his flask; his hands were shaking. “You’d rather go off like a pussy to college where you can lay around a dorm all day?”

“You’re not really just concerned about your adventures are you?” He asked, the hard edge to his voice faltering now.

Rick’s mood evidently soured further, giving Morty a look with squinted eyes that made the kid shift uncomfortably under his hard stare.

Still staring at him, Rick blinked hard, hardly able to process their conversation. His thought process was usually ruined beyond comprehending once he got this drunk. “What are you talking about?”

“Y-your adventures, Rick,” Morty replied, harsher than he intended. “You won’t have anyone around to fucking fly off with every five minutes.”

His grandpa laughed humorlessly. “I-I don’t need anyone, okay, Morty? Nobody, Morty.” He looked down at the flask in his hand, as if he were studying it. “I never needed anyone.”

Morty closed his book, trying to keep his breath steady. Usually when Rick got drunk like this, he got more irritable and rude than usual but right now he only seemed to be going on and on about his problems. 

Morty wouldn’t look at Rick; he hated getting emotional in front of Rick, but there was nothing he hated more than getting emotional because of Rick. “Aw, c’mon, Rick,” He felt his throat tighten up and he quickly cleared it. “T-Tell the truth. Why did you ask me along on all those adventures then?”

Rick’s eyes practically bugged out of his head at the suggestion, grabbing a chair for balance. “A-asked?” He let out a wild laugh. “Asked? God, Morty. We are so different.”

Morty stared at him nervously, his features softening. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’m not a pussy piece of shit like you. I didn’t ask you along on anything. I just fucking needed someone’s help, d-didn’t I? I could have used a monkey for fuck’s sake,” Rick took a large sip, wiping his mouth with his dirty sleeve. “You’re not special, asshole.”

Rick grabbed whatever he needed from the cabinet. He looked as though he was specifically trying not to look at Morty now if it had not been obvious before. He walked back to the basement door, closing it hard behind him pointedly.

Morty sat at the table, tears still in his eyes for a moment before he broke down and began to cry. He pushed his notebooks and papers onto the floor, setting his head down on his arms. He had a sick, tightening feeling in his chest as though he could not breathe.

He hated when Rick did stuff like this. Made him feel useless, like some toy or some object that he would use just for his experimental games. 

After some time to compose himself, he stared blankly down at the papers spread across the table. “Man, fuck this,” he said, standing up. He shuffled across the hallway and turned toward the basement door. “And—and, fuck you, R-Rick!”

There was a soft grunt of acknowledgment from down the stairs but nothing followed.

Morty made his way upstairs. Rick’s ridiculous gadgets were splayed all across the house, not to mention his dozens of empty bottles. He had claimed to be getting better with his alcoholism, but now it just appeared to be worse.

Morty knew it had something to do with him going off to college. He wanted to sympathize with that but he also thought Rick ought to be proud in a certain regard that at least all of their adventures and scientific escapades had not gone entirely to waste.

He didn’t want to leave Rick either; he cared about him. Fuck, and didn’t that just open up a whole other can of worms? Morty dwelled on that thought as his mood went even further south. 

He rubbed his eyes and closed the door behind him. His grandpa had not been asking him on adventures every since Morty had even first dropped the idea of college at the dinner table. The first slight mention of applications approaching had Rick stuttering and angry.

Beth and Jerry had looked on in surprise as Rick had rudely rejected to excuse himself and go down to the basement for the rest of the night, muttering obscenities as he went.

Morty had danced around the topic from there on now, especially careful around Rick but it was becoming hard to avoid it now that application season was only about two months away. Every time he tried to bring it up, even if it was just to break the ice about the topic, Rick would shut down and become more cold than usual.

Morty flopped back onto his bed. He did care about Rick. Too much, probably, he decided and concluded it would be best to push the thoughts aside. For tonight anyway.

 

***

 

Morty went downstairs the next morning, into the basement. The ship was gone. Morty felt like he should have expected it, but instead it felt like a punch in the stomach. He stood in the middle of the basement, feeling as though he should be angry or sad. He couldn’t decipher which emotion was most prominent.

He sat in the chair, spinning absentmindedly. Rick had been acting so strange lately. He had been drinking more often and was unable to even look at Morty. Morty wanted to believe that he had done something wrong, but he also had the feeling that it was just because Rick was aware that he wouldn’t be around much longer.

Still, Morty concluded, there was no reason for him to act like this. Going off on his own was not something Rick would typically do. Usually he was grabbing Morty by the wrist to yank him through a portal or forcing him onto the ship to fly off somewhere. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Rick said, a snarky undertone in his words. He kicked at Morty’s leg to get him to move off of the chair. “After all, college applications are coming up. Can’t miss that Harvard deadline, c-can we?”

Morty stared at him, frustrated. “Doesn’t mean colleges are the only thing on my m-mind, Rick.”

Rick just grunted, still facing away from him. “Whatever.”

“What, can’t handle that I’ll be gone soon?” Morty said suddenly. “Had to try to get used to me not being here?” 

Rick didn’t answer, stiffening. 

“What, was it that horrible?” Morty continued, bolder than usual. “You should have loved it. Seems like every—every time we go somewhere all you do is tell me how I mess up.”

“Who even said that I care?” Rick asked, turning around. “Isn’t it a bit of a jump t-to even assume that I give the slightest fuck? Maybe I just don’t want you along because you really do mess everything up.”

Morty glared at him, trying to look as though the remarks were not bothering him when truthfully they were practically crawling under his skin.

Morty walked up the stairs and slammed the basement door. He sat down on the living room couch, putting his head in his hands, and began to methodically mull over how to proceed from here.

He sat practically bolt upright when he heard a door open and close. He calmed down when he realized his mother had gotten home. He took a moment to catch his breath, knowing that his face must have drained of color.

Morty looked at the clock. Over an hour had passed. He must have dozed off. He was shaking slightly from the fright.

“Hi, Morty,” Beth said, smiling, but her cheery attitude evaporated when she saw the look on her son’s face. “What’s the matter, honey?”

Beth came over to Morty, snapping him out of his daze as she reached in to pet his hair. 

“Nothing,” Morty grumbled, ducking away from the touch. He was not in the mood to talk to anyone about Rick.

“Don’t nothing me. I’m your mother,” she said, putting down her papers from work. She looked at Morty expectantly. “So talk.”

He sighed exasperatedly. “I—I think Rick’s upset that I’m g-going off to college,” Morty finally said, wringing his hands together. “I don’t know. He’s just been acting so different. He’s more closed off—more than usual.”

Beth gave him a sympathetic look, her hands finding their way to his hair again as she brushed his hair aside. “Well, sweetie, you know he cares about you—”

“Don’t say that,” Morty cut her off, face going pink. He collected himself hurriedly. “He doesn’t care about anyone. You know that.”

“He has a soft spot for you. You know that,” Beth reminded him with a soft smile. She exhaled and sat down beside her son. “I know it doesn’t seem like he cares. But—you know he just has a hard time admitting how he feels. He loves you.”

Again, he had to look away. “He sure doesn’t show it,” Morty looked away, reddening. He gnawed on his lower lip.

“I know sometimes he can be a little—” Beth tried to find a way to describe him. Morty would have gone with aggressive, abrasive, cold, shut-off. He was sure he could pick from one of those. “Distant.”

Morty laughed humorlessly. “I guess that is one way to describe him. Beside asshole.”

She smiled, then paused. “Maybe you should go talk to him.”

Morty also paused for a very long time, staring ahead at the wall before eventually caving. “Alright,” he gave in at last. “I-I guess it can’t hurt.”

He stood up, his mind occupied. He was becoming more and more aware of how exactly he shouldn’t feel toward Rick. Naturally, he cared about him. 

But there was something else there that he hated to admit, something that he hated to admit even to himself. The two had always been close, flying off with one another on adventures; Morty thought this is what had started it all. They had become so comfortable around one another that the kid’s thoughts had began to expand and evolve.

He knew that the way that he thought about Rick was not right. The way that he thought about him, especially in the later hours of the night when he was in bed—

_Fuck_. Morty swallowed, trying not to think about that.

Morty came to the bottom of the stairs and went to turn into the basement and concluded that, in fact, it would be hard to not think about that. 

Rick was in the basement, sitting in his chair. But that was not what had caught Morty’s attention. His eyes were heavy-lidded, almost closed and he had his brown slacks pulled down to pool around his ankles. Morty was unable to move for a moment as he stood, watching Rick, who was was groaning softly as he slowly worked his cock in his right hand.

Morty swallowed, feeling the back of his mouth go dry. He felt the blood rush to his face as a blush before it suddenly rushed south. He couldn't take his eyes off of Rick’s hand, which was wrapped securely around his bright pink cock. It sat flush against his stomach; he had obviously been entertaining himself for quite some time by the looks of it.

“Fuck, M-Morty,” Rick groaned aloud, still fisting his cock. The sound of his name made Morty freeze, believing to be caught; however, Rick’s eyes were still closed.

Rick leaned back in his chair, his pants around his ankles as he worked himself hurriedly now. He seemed to be getting closer with a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “B-be a good boy and suck grandpa’s c-cock.”

Morty stared with his mouth almost comically wide. He believed for a second that Rick was talking to him, but he eventually caught on that he was thinking of him. The thought made more blood rush down between Morty’s legs. _Oh_. 

Morty continued to stare, unable to look away. He chewed on his lip, ducking back behind the door. He swallowed thickly, listening to the faint noises. 

“Fuck,” he heard Rick groan. “You get off on su-sucking grandpa’s cock? Being his little slut.”

Morty forced a hand over his mouth as he listened. The other hand slipped down over the front of his jeans as he, with trembling hands, tried to shimmy himself out of his jeans as quickly as possible. He at last managed to stick a hand down his boxers, gripping his length which was now almost achingly hard.

He let out a hiss between his lips as he arched into his own touch. He brushed his finger across the slit, which was already profusely leaking precome. He inwardly cursed his young hormes for allowing him to get worked up so quickly.

“Jesus, your lips look so f-fucking good around my dick, M-Morty,” Rick panted, losing his breath. “You like that?”

Morty gripped himself harder, imagining being on his knees in front of his grandpa, with his mouth around his cock. The thought alone made him shiver. He began to stroke himself harder, his cock flushed as it leaked precome onto the front of his boxers. He bit down onto his hand to restrain himself from moaning aloud.

The sound of Rick’s groans grew louder, along with the slick sound of skin-against-skin as he fisted his length. “G-God, your mouth feels good,” He gasped. “M-maybe I want to fuck you too. Huh, Morty? D-Do you want me to bend you over and fuck your ass?”

Morty bit down on his hand, gasping a soft little yes to himself. He felt a hot flush run through him as he continued to pump himself in his boxers, his hand wrapped firmly around his aching cock. He was pressed against the wall, panting roughly as his breath grew more ragged. His legs felt like Jell-O and, at this point, he could only focus on the hardness between his legs as he rapidly jerked himself off in time with Rick.

Morty was so wrapped up in the feeling, his head tipped back as he continued to bite down on his lip to repress any noises, that he did not hear Rick’s noises cease. 

“G-Get, y-your ass in here, M-Morty,” Rick stumbled into the doorway abruptly, his pants still slack around his ankles. He had his hand gripped around himself still.

Morty gaped at his grandpa. He desperately tried to pull his jeans back up, hands shaking now. “Geez, R-Rick! I—I didn’t know you—you were—” Morty stammered wildly, trying to look Rick in the eye without allowing his gaze to drift elsewhere.

“You didn’t know I was in there, g-getting off to the thought of you,” he looked at him discontentedly, his voice coming out tight. He was still slightly pink with his lips dry and chapped. “I know you heard me. No point in p-pretending like you didn’t.”

Morty had not been prepared to say it out loud. A dark blush suddenly rushed over his face. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled. “This is fucked up.”

“Y-You don’t think I don’t know I’m fucked up?” Rick got close to Morty, digging his hand into the waistband of his pants. “I-I’m more than aware, Morty. I know I’m a sick fuck, Morty.”

Morty was still staring at him with his mouth parted, unable to take his eyes off of his grandpa. He had seen him drunk, he had seen him bent over a toilet, he had seen him kill people. But this, seeing him like this. That was different. 

His eyes were dark as he gripped Morty by the hair. “Come in here, y-you piece of shit. You’re just as fu-fucked up as your grandpa, huh, Morty? Are you as fucked up as me?” He demanded as he closed the door behind them.

Morty let out a soft whine, unable to do anything else. He was still thinking of all the things Rick had said that he wanted to do to him. It did not help the situation between his legs, which was now straining against the cotton of his boxers in a way that drove Morty insane. He wanted them off, off now. His cock needed to breathe.

Rick gripped him by the hips, hard enough to almost leave bruises along the boy’s hip bones. “I-I can’t fuckin hear you, y-you little bitch,” he said through his teeth before lifting Morty onto his workbench. “I asked if you’re fucked up like m-me.”

“Y-yes, Rick,” Morty stammered, finally able to catch his breath long enough to answer him. 

“Oh, really?” Rick asked. “Y-you know what I was just thinking about in there?”

“Wh-what?,” Morty managed, his voice going up into a squeak as Rick began to slide his hand across his leg. 

Morty felt Rick’s hand crawl up his thigh, the other one still gripping his hip. He opened his mouth, but Rick wasted no time. “I was thinking about you, M-Morty. I was thinking about fucking you over my workbench and forcing your m-mouth on my cock, Morty.”

Morty let out another whine, this one coming out more high-pitched as he struggled to grab onto his grandpa’s lab coat. “T-take it off,” he pleaded, squirming a bit before lying back on the bench. “Please, Rick.”

“You’re an impatient little bitch,” Rick said, lifting Morty’s shirt off. Morty shivered at the cold, but then Rick pressed himself against him. “Wh-what, you like that idea? You like the idea of me fucking your mouth?”

Morty could only nod frantically.

“Sick perv,” he mumbled, and Morty wasn’t sure if he was talking about him or himself. 

Morty just whimpered pathetically, unable to do anything else. He felt dizzy, his mind a foggy haze. “Please, Rick, I need you to touch me. Oh! Oh God, please.”

“Shut up,” Rick barked again. “You’re needy as fuck, aren’t you? Were you going to come out there?” He asked, dipping his hand into Morty’s boxers. He slid them down suddenly and Morty nearly collapsed when the older man wrapped a hand around his cock, which was now steadily dripping precome. 

“Y-yes,” Morty’s voice went up a few octaves. He bucked his his into Rick’s touch.

“Yes, you were going to come? Just from listening to your grandpa jerk off?” Rick pressed his mouth against Morty’s neck, dragging his teeth over his collarbone hard enough to leave a prominent mark. “I was right. You are a p-perv. Just like your grandpa.”

Morty felt as though the temperature in the garage had just shot up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rick, touch me,” he practically begged.

Rick sat back on his chair, then tugged on Morty’s hair to pull him over onto his lap. Morty gasped audibly when he was pulled down flush against Rick. He felt his own aching erection press against the older man’s and he couldn’t help but buck into the touch immediately. 

Rick put his hands on Morty’s hips, trying to still him. Morty gave a few more needy whines as he tried to rut against him before surrendering. Already, sweat caused his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“R-Rick,” Morty whined. 

“What? You were r-rude, listening in on me. So why should I give you wh-what you want?” Rick asked, digging his fingers into Morty’s hips again. He slowly, methodically pressed himself against Morty’s ass just enough for the kid to feel him. “Hmm?”

Morty let out a soft cry. “B-because, I want it.”

“Oh? And about two weeks ago, I wanted to fuck you senseless when I saw you wearing those skin-tight fucking jeans. But I didn’t g-get that,” Rick said.

“You can now!” Morty gasped, his hands scrabbling at Rick’s chest as he tried to yet again rock into Rick’s hips. His cock almost hurt now, frustratingly hard as he tried to get at least some friction to no avail.

“Not good enough,” He bit down on Morty’s skin. “After I saw you in those, I had to go jerk—jerk off. Not the same, is it?”

“Oh, God, Rick,” Morty mumbled, feeling a wide array of emotions all at once. He wanted to touch him, yanking on his shirt wildly; another part of him wanted to just hold onto him for a bit. At the moment, his cock was speaking loudest and right then all it wanted was touch.

Then Rick kissed him. 

"Just shut up, Morty," Rick murmured, his eyes slipping shut as he closed the distance between them again. 

Morty returned with fervor before he could talk himself out of it. Fucking was one thing. Morty did not want to add any more fuel to his crush on Rick, but fuck. That did it for Morty.

But he wasn’t thinking about that right then, not when he could feel Rick entwine his fingers into the curls at the nape of Morty’s neck, forcing him in closer as he pried his grandson's mouth open with his own, letting his tongue slip over Morty's with practiced skill. 

Morty had to suppress a needy moan that threatened to creep up his throat. Rick pulled at his hair, urging the moan out of the kid.

He grinned and began to work Morty’s boxers down. He then proceeded to slip a hand between Morty’s thighs, finding his tight hole which Rick could only assume had never been stretched by a cock. “G-gonna work you open, ‘kay, Morty?”

Morty put his hands on Rick’s shoulders to brace himself. “Please,” he whispered.

Rick pressed a finger into Morty’s mouth before bringing it back to his hole. He looked Morty in the eyes as he began to push inside of him, adding another finger to allow him to adjust to the stretch. He scissored his fingers slightly and distracted Morty from any pain by giving his cock a few occasional squeezes.

Rick hit the bundle of nerves inside of him and Morty gave a weak cry, trying to simultaneously buck back onto his fingers and forward into his hand. “Oh my God, R-Rick, please,” Morty pleaded again, a little more loudly now.

“Please, what?” Rick began to work into him more quickly now. “Use your words, b-bitch. Please what?”

“Please fuck me!” Morty whimpered.

Rick turned Morty over so he was face down, his back arched slightly. “Can you hold yourself up, b-babe?”

Morty, amiss it all, felt a warm blush spread over his face. “Y-yes, Rick.”

“Good boy,” Rick praises uncharacteristically, reaching down to tug on his leaking cock was flush against his stomach. “M’gonna fuck you now, kay?”

Morty nodded wordlessly, biting his lip. 

Rick lined himself up against him and began to push, trying to look at Morty’s facial expressions. Morty groaned, his hands coming up to his face as he tried to adjust to the stretch and slight burn as Rick’s cock breached him.

Morty moaned; the sensation was so new and he felt so unbearably full. Just knowing that this was Rick inside of him did not help. That only made Morty felt warm, his skin alight as he made further attempts to push back onto him.

He felt Rick’s hips touch his and he let out a shaky noise. Rick was now fully inside of him and Jesus, Morty just loved knowing that. 

Rick used his free hand to find Morty’s waist. “Y-you okay, Morty?”

“God, yes. Can you move?” Morty whispered.

“Sure thing, b-baby.”

Rick suddenly slid out and pushed back into him, a slowly now so that Morty could get used to the initial stretch before he began to pick up the pace.

Morty groaned, biting his hand, as he felt the pleasant burn. He had never felt so full, even the occasional times where he had fingered himself late at night. 

Nothing—nothing prior—compared to how utterly full he felt when Rick pushed in to his hilt. He could feel his hips against his own.

Moments before Morty had nearly come, Rick suddenly pulled out. It made Morty gasp out loud, his hips still moving as he struggled to get back into that rhythm again. 

“Rick!” Morty protested, but Rick merely grunted as he flipped the kid over so that he was on his back now. Morty waited for the bleariness at the edge of his vision to die away before looking back up at his grandpa, whose own face was flushed.

Rick leaned forward until his mouth was pressed against Morty's neck, nipping at the delicate skin there.

Rick pressed the head of his cock back against Morty’s hole. "I-Is that-that what you want, baby?" He asked throatily, scraping the delicate skin of Morty's earlobe between his teeth. "Never knew my grandson was a little whore. You want me to keep going?"

"Yes," Morty gasped, both at the question and the sensation of Rick's warm mouth against him. He felt as though his whole body were on fire as he scrabbled at Rick’s chest, desperate to get a firm hold on anything.

"Yeah? Well—" One of Rick's hands traveled up Morty's chest until his thumb pressed into the hollow of Morty's throat. The gesture was almost taunting, especially judging by the bright gleam in Rick's eye. "Ask politely, then."

Morty swallowed loudly and tried to look away, but that same hand, thumb still putting pressure on that spot that made it feel sort of hard to breathe. That, and the overwhelming sensation of having Rick just _there_ , teasing him like this just made it all worse. Each time Morty tried to look away, Rick grabbed his chin and forced him to look back up at his grandpa. Morty was shaking, hardly able to wait a moment longer. 

"Please, Rick," he begged softly, trying to put some work in himself by pushing back against Rick’s length but every time he got close, Rick leaned away. 

Rick's eyes were knowing, aware that Morty was extraordinarily close to his breaking. "Did you say something? Hmm? Please what, Morty?"

"Please..." He took a deep breath and prepared to swallow his pride. "Please don’t stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse with humiliation and unbridled lust. He tried to swallow to moisten his throat a little bit, but he panted heavily almost immediately afterward. The sensations were almost _too_ much.

Morty managed to push himself back, matching the harsh pace without so much as a single complaint. Rick gripped the inside of Morty’s thigh with one hand while the other grabbed his dick caught beneath his belly to stroke it roughly and carelessly. The additional touch made Morty squeak. 

Morty pressed back onto Rick’s cock, letting out pleased whines as he felt his grandpa slide further inside of him. “R-Rick,” he whispered. “Can you come inside of me, please? 

“F-fuck, you want me to come inside your ass?”

“Yes!” He gasped. Morty began to buck into Rick’s hand and then—he felt a harsh breath of _God Morty_ against his neck—and he came into Rick’s hand. He covered his hand in his seed, sobbing as he finished. 

Rick followed suit almost instantly when he felt Morty tighten up.

He let go of Morty’s cock and instead gripped his hips, giving a few more rough thrusts into him as he sucked bright red marks on the back of Morty’s neck. Rick’s thrusts became more frantic until finally he froze, squeezing Morty’s waist hard enough to leave marks. The boy could feel the older man emptying into him with an obscene groan.

“Oh!” Morty whimpered, feeling the warm come inside of him. He shivered as he felt his grandpa gasp against the nape of his neck. He groaned as he finished inside of him and then proceeded to try to catch his breath.

“Oh,” Rick echoed, breathing heavily. He stayed there for a moment until his breathing became slower and calmer. “Fuck,” Rick said, sounding suddenly very frustrated. “I shouldn’t—I fucked up.”

Morty felt his chest tighten. “What?”

Rick didn’t say anything. He put his hand on Morty’s back and slowly began to pull out. Morty winced at suddenly feeling so empty, trying to appreciate the leftover warmth. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper.

“Just—” Rick began to hastily pull his clothes on. “Just go, Morty.”

Morty stared at him, freezing. “Wh-what?”

Rick collected all of his clothes, shaking. “Y-you heard me, Morty! Put your—your clothes on.”

It took him a moment to collect himself. His heart was still beating wildly and now he felt a torrage of conflicting emotions. He began to pull his shirt on again, his hands shaking as he dressed himself. After he finished, he looked at Rick with his eyebrows drawn together; he knew he looked at hurt as he felt. 

Rick looked at him, let out a pained noise, and turned away. “Go, Morty.” He evidently tried not to look at him, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to get himself together.

Morty swallowed hard, his throat hurting. “What did I do, Rick?”

“Nothing,” Rick said harshly. “I said to just—just go, okay?”

Morty hurried back towards the stairs, trying to ignore the burning soreness between his legs. It seemed like he could still feel Rick inside of him. He felt disorientated and hurt.

He ended up sitting in his room for quite some time after his and Rick’s encounter. He was not sure how he was feeling about it all; it was what he had wanted for such a long time, but now that it had happened he just felt confused. 

 

***

 

Things around the house were unbearably tense the next day. For the first time in his life, Morty wished it was a weekday so he could go to school as an excuse to get out of the house.

“C-can I eat in my room tonight, Mom?” Morty asked Beth quietly. He hoped he did not sound as anxious as he felt. “I have homework to do.”

“Oh, Morty, you can do that after,” she said. “You know how your father gets about quality time.”

Morty let out an uncomfortable sound. “Okay,” he said, knowing from experience not to argue wth that one. “I guess.”

Truth be told, he did not want to be around Rick. Seeing him after what happened was almost unbearable. It made Morty flush warm before reddening with a mixture of shame and want. He hated that he wanted it again and that he wanted more out of it than he had gotten.

Morty lingered by the counter, mindlessly helping, until Rick came up from the basement. Immediately, Morty tensed; he looked at his grandpa, who hardly seemed uncomfortable but rather was in his typical mildly-irritated state.

He sat down at the table, trying his very hardest to catch Rick’s eye as he dropped down into his chair. Jerry and Summer trickled in, the latter texting carelessly on her phone.

It was quiet for a while once they had all sat down.

“So,” Jerry cleared his throat, putting his fork down. “How’s school been, Morty?”

Morty winced when Rick immediately let out an irritated noise. “J-Jerry, you may not want to mention school to him. He—he might even get hard if you mention college,” He said, resulting in disgusted noises from the remainder of the family.

Beth immediately tried to mold the conversation in a different direction. “It’s good that Morty’s been more focused on school this year,” she said. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

“I don’t know why you’re bringing me into this,” Rick replied shortly.

Beth was beginning to look uncomfortable, as though knowing where this tension was headed. “Well, um, because—because he looks up to you.”

It was Morty’s turn to scoff. “Wouldn’t go that far, Mom,” Morty said harshly. “Since when should I look up to an alcoholic asshole who left his wife and daughter?”

“Morty.” Beth sounded shocked.

“Here we go,” Summer said monotonously.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Morty?” Rick looked up at last, waving his fork around. 

“Just that you’ve been more of an asshole than usual lately,” Morty muttered, stabbing at his food frustratedly. “M-maybe it’s because you spend most of your time down in the basement drinking to forget all the horrible things you’ve done.”

“Morty, that’s enough,” Beth said quickly.

“N-no, Beth, it’s fine,” Rick said in an uncomfortably relaxed voice. “Maybe the kid just hasn’t considered that maybe I drink because if I wasn’t drunk, I couldn’t handle being around him for more—more than five minutes.”

“Okay, Dad, no need to join in.”

“I just wanted to have dinner with my family,” Jerry groaned. “Why can’t I have one thing?”

“Relax, Jerry,” Beth tried to soothe him.

“Y-yeah, _Jerry_ , quit your bitching,” Rick said. “If you wanted to have dinner with a normal family, you can go eat in front of the T.V. and watch Full House.”

“Quit being like that, Rick,” Morty glared at him.

“Quit being a pain in my ass, Morty!”

“You’re a bigger pain in mine,” Morty said quickly, before falling quiet. He felt a warm blush come over his cheeks and even Rick looked a bit taken aback by his blatant innuendo.

“Am I missing something?” Summer put her phone down at last.

“Nothing. I’ve just been on edge—w-with homework and stuff,” Morty tried to amend everything quickly; he really did not want the whole family aware of the extent of his and his grandpa’s problems. “R-right, Rick?”

Rick snorted, swigging from his flask. “Whatever.”

“What’s with you, Dad?” Beth was still staring at them both in wonder. “You are acting more short-tempered—than usual.”

“Nothing’s _with me_ , this kid just gets off on getting under my skin,” Rick remarked, forking another bite of lasagna into his mouth.

Morty, still red, glared at him and poked at his food. “Cunt,” he muttered

Summer was texting again, but managed to send a weird look over at Morty. “What’s up your ass?”

“You don’t want to know,” he muttered.

“What was that, Morty?” Rick asked loudly.

“Nothing, Rick. Mind your own damn business,” Morty said, voice shaking a bit as he tried his hardest to not look at his grandpa.

The rest of dinner was extremely quiet. Jerry made a few half-hearted pokes at humor and tried to get Beth to talk about something at the hospital, but for the most part everyone could sense that there was tension at the table.

_If only they knew why_ , Morty mused bitterly.

Morty remained at the table after everyone else got up. Summer walked back over to him and took a seat, putting her phone to the side for once. She exhaled. “So, spill.”

“Th-there’s nothing to _spill_ , Summer,” he said. “Grandpa Rick is just being more of a douche than usual—I didn’t think that was possible.”

She hummed. “Sucks,” she said, messing with his shirt. “You know how he can get.”

“I know, but I just hate when he acts one way one minute and then his personality changes the next second,” Morty replied, sounding disgruntled. He rubbed at his arms, cold.

“It’s the alcohol. Come on, Morty, you know he’s flat drunk most of the time,” Summer said. She stood back up and began collecting their plates. “Most of what he says or does is meaningless.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Morty said quietly once she walked away.

 

***

 

Morty had decided that he could not skip school the next day, but the entire time his mind had been preoccupied with Rick. He was sure at this point that his parents and Summer had noticed that something was off between them. Naturally, they did not assume anything odd but they were not fully aware that the two were not on good terms.

Beth tried to clear up some of the thick air at dinner by attempting light humor but Morty had mostly just poked at his dinner until Rick had stood up and went back downstairs. 

Now, Rick was standing at the kitchen counter and pouring himself some more vodka into his flask. He had bags under his eyes, looking more tired and grouchy than usual. 

“Rick,” Morty said, collecting himself but his stutter prevailed regardless. “I—I—I wanted to talk to you.”

“G-go away, Morty. Not in the mood for your b-bullshit,” Rick said, taking a swig of his drink. He was staring ahead as though he were deep in thought, which was normal for Rick, but this seemed to be a different kind of deep thought.

“Why do you do this?” Morty asked, trying not to sound too hurt but he could keep the crack out of his voice. He could feel Rick staring at him.

“Do what?” Rick grumbled. “Drink? Mostly because of you.”

Morty wrung his hands together. “N-no. I mean, you act like you don’t care.” He said; his voice went up a few octaves and he had to clear his throat again.“Tell me, Rick. Is it because you _don’t_ care about me or anyone else?”

Rick continued to mindlessly drink for a moment. He took a final sip, closed his flask, and pocketed it once again. “Morty.”

Morty blinked. “Er, yes?”

“Go to hell, okay?” Rick stood up, wavering on his feet for a moment. He exhaled nonchalantly. “I’m the greatest scientific mind in the universe. You think I have time for your Bachelor in Paradise bullshit?” 

Morty stared at him, his mouth parted. “You’re just—you’re just brushing this—what we did— off? This is kind of a big deal, Rick.”

“Not to me,” Rick grumbled, grabbing his wrench that he dropped. He examined it, making sure it wasn’t broken, and grabbed the rest of his tools off of the table. “Honestly. You little pussy teenagers. Think every little f-fuck turns into a Nicholas Sparks novel or whatever.”

Rick began to stagger down the stairs after another belch. Morty, on the other hand, was standing in the doorway with his mouth still open and his face flushed angrily.

Rick was prepared to drop all of this and pretend like it didn’t happen. It was a little bit too big to just push under the rug. Morty was not willing to allow him to try.

After a moment of being unable to move, Morty shook his head to break himself out of the haze. He walked—he stomped—angrily, yanking the garage door open and marching down the stairs. He felt hot all over from being so frustrated with Rick; he could hardly think straight. His thoughts seemed jarred and tossed together.

He stood behind Rick who acted as though he didn’t even hear the the door open.

Morty finally said, “So, what? We—We did th-th-that, and you don’t care, Rick?” 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Rick said. “I have bigger problems. Bigger things to deal with. Things that your brain couldn’t comprehend because you’re too busy thinking with your dick.”

“And you weren’t? The day I came in here and found you getting off to—to me,” Morty managed. His mouth felt dry.

Again, there was no answer. Morty snapped, letting out an exasperated noise. 

He forced himself between Rick and the workbench. He ignored the metallic noises and strange beeping that came from whatever device his grandpa was constructing now. Standing there—pressed up against Rick to prevent him from working—breathing heavily, he looked him in the eye defiantly.

He seemed to have momentarily thrown a Rick off by squeezing his way in. Rick was staring at him, mouth parted, as he grew more angry. 

“M-M-Morty,” he stuttered wildly. “Y-you dumb shit, mo-move!” Rick put his hand on his midsection.

When Rick put his hand on him, Morty managed to get as close to him as possible. “Last week you couldn’t g-get your hands off of me,” he said, the warmth crawling up his neck once again. He had forced himself against Rick in the little space he had. His ass was still aching from a few days prior and he did not want it to go away; he wanted to constantly feel sore from Rick fucking him.“Don’t act like you don’t want to touch me.”

“I’ve had enough of your games, Morty,” Rick pushed him to the side, but Morty managed to force himself back between his grandpa and the work bench. “I said move!”

“Really? You want me to move?” Morty was furious with Rick; he felt flushed and hot and needy. “M’not going anywhere so—so—so why don’t you just _fuck_ me again?”

“God damn it,” Rick spat, dropping the wrench and pushing back against Morty. “You want me to fuck you? Is—is that what you want?”

“Yeah, go ahead!” Morty put his hands on Rick’s chest, already trying to pull his coat off. “Fuck me like I know you want to.”

Rick, despite being so resilient before, hardly needed any more convincing after that. He used his grip on the kid’s hip to shove Morty on top of the bench, knocking his contraption to the side. He roughly kissed Morty, parting his lips immediately.

Morty could taste the hard liquor on his tongue, whimpering softly as he tried to get closer. Rick pushed between his legs to get nearer.

Morty reached down to palm himself through his jeans, already obviously hard, but Rick intercepted. He gripped his wrists and forced them over his head despite the kid’s frustrated whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rick muttered. “You—wanted this. So—so I’m doing it my way.”

Rick fell back into his chair, forcing Morty onto his lap. Morty groaned, adoring just how perfectly he seemed to fit onto his grandpa’s lap. He could feel his grandpa getting hard under him, which only made him hiss and try to roll down into him.

“P-patience,” Rick snapped, yanking on his hair. “I t-told you, Morty. I’m doing this my way.”

Rick just looked Morty in the eye, practically smirking, as he just made Morty wait. It was agonizing.

And then Rick raised his hips just right and Morty let out a moan at the delicious friction, could feel Rick's erection brush his own through their pants. The sensation made him whine, his hands going to Rick’s shoulders in order to brace himself.

"Touch me," he pleaded, gripping onto Rick, clutching for anything to keep himself grounded. 

“What was that?” Rick asked lazily. “Didn’t hear you.”

"Please, Rick, touch me, I-I need—" Morty's sentence trailed off and became a series of whines as Rick increased the pace, the pressure now working Morty up to where he could hardly catch his breath.

At last, after what felt like hours but was probably more likely a few minutes, Rick yanked Morty’s shirt off and began to pepper kisses just about anywhere he could find purchase on Morty's milky skin. 

Morty shivered as Rick’s lips grazed over ribs, his stomach, his ribs, his sides, his chest, none of it went without attention, and he felt as if he was on the brink of sensational overload. He could hardly process all of the touches as Rick’s hands were all over him and it made him feel so good.

Rick chuckled low and ran a thumb across one of Morty's nipples. "Good boy."

And honestly, at that moment, that was when Morty knew just how fucked up he was because those two words managed to make him harder than he had ever been. The sound of Rick’s voice, scratchy and deep with lust, had only added fuel to the fire.

"Rick," he groaned, his hands trying wantonly to find some purchase over the hollow of Rick’s neck. He scraped his nails there, leaving red lines in their place. "Please, could you—

"So impatient," Rick shook his head. "You can’t wait to have my cock in your ass again, huh? Can you still feel it from a couple of days ago, stretching your little virgin hole?”

Morty bit the palm of his hand as he nodded. “I want to feel it again, Rick, please. I want to be sore again,” he babbled.

“Ah,” Rick began to slowly roll against him again, more teasingly now. “You must’ve thought about it so many times at night,” he said, leaning in so his breath would ghost over his neck. “Thought about you grandpa bending you over.”

"Rick, I-I can't," Morty nearly sobbed, painfully erect as he tried his very hardest to grind his hips against Rick’s clothed member. Once he found it, he let out a thankful breath before beginning to press himself against Rick.

His eyes flew open when Rick put his hand on Morty’s chest, separating them a bit so that Morty’s aching cock was left without friction yet again.

“Sit up, baby,” Rick growled.

Rick pulled off his jacket and shirt, before working Morty’s own shirt off. Morty blushed under Rick’s stare as the older man began to nip and bite just under his chin. He worked his way down, slowly to the top of Morty’s pants.

He worked them off as well, shimmying them down Morty’s legs; it was not easy with how tight the jeans were. Rick was glad to have Morty more exposed, it seemed, by the way he was looking at him with odd new hungry look in his eyes that the kid was wanting to get used to.

Rick slipped his hand into his boxers suddenly and watched as Morty keened, legs going jelly-like. “I know you’ve been dying to do this again. Just like me. I’ve been watching you around the house the past couple days and thinking—how the f-fuck can I get inside of that again?”

Morty shivered at the words. “C-could have just asked.”

“Hmm, fucking slut,” Rick nipped at his neck, ridding them of their boxers. “All I had to do is ask? What a bitch you are.”

“F-for you, Rick.”

Rick growled in response, wrapping a hand around Morty—who immediately thrust into the touch. “I would s-suck your cock, but I’m afraid you’ll blow too soon.”

Morty whimpered, feeling himself give a weak throb. “N-no, I won’t. Promise, Rick.”

“Fucking promise?” Rick leaned close, squeezing him harder. “You come and I—I’ll fuck you until you’re not only sore, but until you beg me to stop.”

Morty shuddered. “I-I’ll be good.”

Rick must have caught on because he squeezed Morty’s waist. “Good boy,” he said, and watched Morty’s pink face as he dipped down onto his knees.

Morty could hardly think straight as he looked down and saw his grandpa tease the head of his cock. He hated that he was the one who had his grandpa on his knees but he knew that Rick was entirely in control and could make him come in an instant if he wanted to do so.

Rick brushed his tongue along the slit, collecting the precome there. Morty’s hips jerked forward and he forced them still. If he did not behave, Rick would not continue and all he wanted at that moment was to feel Rick’s mouth.

Rick’s other hand slipped up to Morty’s hole, which felt only slightly less tight. Morty moaned at the sensation, trying to push back onto his finger so he could have something—anything—inside of him. He felt hot all over, as though he required something inside of him.

Rick popped off of his cock. “You fingered yourself since we fucked,” he stated, and Morty blushed furiously. “Did you do it when you jerked off? Wishing it was my dick spreading your hole open?”

“Oh, God, I fucking wished it was,” Morty sobbed, trying to force himself back onto his fingers. At the same time, he tried to nudge his swollen member back inside of Rick’s mouth.

Rick, after a few teasing licked, finally obliged and took Morty to the root almost instantly. He swallowed the boy down and Morty felt a white-hot jolt of warmth run down his abdomen. The warm, wet suction around his aching cock was only aided by the feeling of Rick continuously working his fingers inside of him.

Then, Rick pulls off and just licks. Over and over, he gave light kitten-licks over his member until it was slick with his saliva and precome. Just the gentle teasing had gotten Morty to the point where he was shaking, whispering _more_ under his breath. The tight warmth around his member felt unbelievably good.

The mere fact that Rick was touching his body so intimately sent electrifying feelings all over the kid’s body. His head rolled back, and he gripped onto Rick as though he were the only thing that could keep him stable at that point, trying his very hardest to remain standing up even though his knees were threatening to buckle. He could feel his legs shaking in protest.

“Rick, don’t stop,” Morty sobbed. His hands were now on his grandfather’s back, raking lines along his skin. They came back up to his hair, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turned white.

“Y-y-you’re such an eager little bitch,” Rick replied, sitting up and smirking at the boy. A trail of saliva connected Rick’s mouth to Morty’s cock, reminding him yet again just how dirty what they were doing was. “D-don’t come just yet.”

Morty’s eyes widened as Rick bent down again and swallowed his cock without gagging. He took it down as though he were made to do it. The hot sensation made Morty nearly collapse, fisting at his grandpa’s hair as he tried to get even closer to him.

His grandfather’s hot mouth was an experience of euphoria that Morty couldn’t even begin to try to name. Rick’s flattened tongue grazed over the length of Morty’s cock, moving across the length at an agonizingly slow pace that had the kid practically shaking.

Then, when Rick started bobbing his head up and down Morty’s length, the kid’s eyes practically rolled back in their head. 

“Oh, God, R-Rick!” Morty gasped, unable to hold back the pleased shivers rolling throughout his body. He squirmed with every touch of the older man's war hands. The heat sitting low in his stomach was an overwhelming fire that threatened to consume him, much too quickly. “It’s too—too much.”

Rick grinned around his cock, beginning to bob his head more quickly. He wrapped his lips around the sensitive head before pushing back down again. He seemed to want to see how far he could push Morty before it was too late.

“Rick, oh, Rick—you have to s-stop!” Morty managed to warn him just in time for Rick to pop off, leaving Morty whimpering at the loss. He didn’t come though and could at least feel some pride in that.

“You open enough?” Rick gripped his hips, digging his nails against the fair skin in hopes to leave bright purple rings there.

“Yes,” Morty said, leaning down against Rick’s chair. “I’m ready, Rick. Please just—can you fuck me?”

“Yeah, babe,” Rick murmured. “I think I can manage that.”

Rick hardly waited a moment longer, leaning between Morty’s spread legs. Morty felt Rick grip his thighs to brace himself, before suddenly pushing inside of him a little more relentlessly than last time.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” Morty raised his hips to meet Rick’s. His body went red, starting from his face and working down his chest. 

Rick grunted low in the back of his throat as he began to thrust into him. Morty had grown more accustomed to having something inside of him between their first session and his recent obsession with fingering himself while masturbating. He could hardly get enough of it unless it was this and, at that moment, Morty was so grateful to be full.

Morty didn’t expect the next question to fly from his mouth but maybe he just wanted to see how far he could push Rick; he wanted to see him angry and jealous at the thought of his Morty with someone else. 

“M-maybe,” he started, “This is one of the reasons you don’t want me to go off to college. Afraid I’m gonna get fucked by a bunch of other guys?”

Rick froze mid-thrust. “What did you just say?”

Morty couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. Got him.

Rick gripped Morty’s chin forcefully. “What, y-y-you think you’re just so fuckin' clever, Morty? Think it’s funny to say shit like _that_? Th-Think you can just tease me?” He gave a sudden rough thrust into him, deeper and more forcibly now; it made Morty burn in the most delightful way. "That's not how it works."

“Wh-what is it, Rick?” Morty continued, forcing himself back in time with Rick’s erratic thrusts. “Afraid you couldn’t—couldn’t go as long as they could?”

Rick bit down on his neck possessively. “There isn’t anything those little fuckboys could do to you that I couldn’t do a hundred times better, Morty.” 

Rick’s next kiss was all tongue and teeth and groans and Morty ate it up. He never thought he would enjoy seeing Rick like this, so possessive and almost jealous. He tugged Rick closer, allowing the older man to ravage his mouth and his ass simultaneously.

They pulled away for a breath and Morty licked his lips. He could taste the alcohol and chapstick and some faint peppermint from Rick, and he fucking adored every part of it. Rick’s skin felt hotter than usual and even his face seemed to glow a light pink, most likely a reminiscent of his anger.

“H-how about that?” Rick said, teeth clenched. “Can your frat boys make you moan like a bitch? I don’t fucking think so.”

Morty only replied with a low moan, his hips absentmindedly thrusting backwards. He could feel himself beginning to shake with the effort.

“Rick, can you come inside of me again?” Morty leaned up, trying to kiss him again as Rick continued to thrust into him. The older man had a sheen of sweat coating his skin now, his brow furrowed as he grew closer to his own orgasm.

Rick pulled on Morty’s hair. “Look at me and ask for it,” he growled.

“Come inside of me, Rick!” Morty gasped, his mouth parting. “C-can you come in me, Rick? I want—I want to feel it.”

“Please?” Rick yanked on his hair again.

“Please!” Morty leaned his head back, exposing his neck; Rick immediately began to suck dark marks onto his pale skin. His pace grew more sloppy and out of time but Morty didn’t care because he knew that he was growing closer.

Angling his hips in just the right position, Rick pressed his swollen cock against Morty’s prostate and stopped moving. Just to be an asshole (pun intended), he kept the contact as he simply remained with the head of his cock pressed against the bundle of nerves. Morty shuddered, gasping brokenly, as Rick over-stimulated the boy into an orgasm with a few furious strokes. He seemed to know exactly where to touch Morty and where he was especially sensitive.

Once Morty had bounced back, his grandpa only had to thrust a couple more times, before burying his head against Morty’s neck. He cried a deep _oh, fucking hell_ as he began to come inside of Morty. The feeling made Morty shudder as the warm wetness filled him until Rick grew soft inside. It was such an overwhelmingly obscene and dirty feeling. The kid reveled in it.

Morty immediately tensed, but now it was from anxiety. Last time they stopped, Rick had pulled out and practically drove him out of the garage.

Without saying anything, Rick let out a breathy noise and began to pull out. Morty enjoyed the full feeling for a moment longer before he was empty again, come running down his leg.

Morty breathed harshly, looking back up at Rick hopefully. 

His grandpa handed him a towel. “Here,” he said, his voice not giving much away; if anything, this made Morty more anxious.

“Th-thank you,” he said, wiping himself down. His hands were shaking. “Are you okay, Rick?”

“Y-yeah,” he said. “Are you?”

Morty felt a little more hopeful by his question. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he set the towel down. “Are—are we okay?”

“I don’t know, Morty,” Rick admitted, sounding a bit more vulnerable than usual. “I don’t know what sick shit I’m doing now. Gotta say, this is relatively low on my list of fucked-up shit. But, it’s on there.”

Morty just stared at him, with big eyes, and could only hope that Rick was not playing with him this time. He was aware that he had teased Rick into it but he also hoped that he had brought out an already-stagnant desire.

“W-well?”

“Well, what?” Rick rubbed his eyes. “I know as much as you do. I just know that I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“I-I—Don’t you like it, Rick?” Morty murmured.

“Too much,” Rick walked closer, tangling his fingers in the kid’s curls. 

Morty wanted to kiss him again so badly that it almost hurt. Instead, Rick just helped him dress and clean up before he sent Morty on his way yet again.

 

***

 

Morty, like usual, got home from school. Also nothing strange, his mind had been on Rick all day; it was hard to get him off his mind when he still felt particularly sore from the night prior. They had not talked since their encounter aside from good morning grumbles.

Morty checked inside the mailbox when he got home. He stopped when he saw that he had been waiting for for weeks on end, the letter from the university that he applied for. 

A wide variety of emotions had suddenly come over him and he couldn’t name a single one of them. He didn’t move for a minute and instead breathed in and out slowly.

He decided to own up to anxiety and curiosity first as he grabbed the letter out of the mailbox and tore it open. His eyes moved quickly over the words before he froze up and rushed towards the house; he still had his paper in hand.

He pushed the door open. “Mom, I got in!” Morty held the paper up for her to see. “I got in.”

Beth rushed forward, squeezing her son tightly. “Oh, honey! I’m so proud,” she said, taking the letter and reading over it. “This is so good, you know that right? And you worked so hard for it.”

Morty was still trying to comprehend this, in both a positive and negative light. Everything felt so _confusing_. “Y-yeah, Mom.”

Beth gave him the letter back. “You’ll have to call your dad. Oh! And Summer. Go text her,” She looked around for her phone. “Oh, and don’t forget to tell your grandpa.”

_Oh_. Morty’s good mood immediately deflated. “Yeah. I’ll wait on that one.”

“Morty,” Beth looked at him sadly, seeming to read him well, but hopefully not too well. “He just needs time. Still, he should know. This is a big deal!”

“Geez, I-I don’t know, Mom—”

“Morty, just tell him,” she said, petting his hair. She seemed to realize how much the idea was stressing him out. “Go on.”

Morty exhaled and, accepting the fact that this would go poorly, he turned back towards the stairs. He walked down more slowly than probably necessary as he drew out his time.

“Rick? Rick, I—”

“I heard, thanks,” Rick said shortly, before Morty could even try to continue. “Now you can run off to a university where you can—can circle jerk with every other guy in your frat.”

Morty felt his face fall, holding his letter more tightly. He knew Rick was hoping that he would already be gone, but he stood there stock-still with his letter fisted in his hand. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or upset. “Rick, don’t—”

“Just go away. I’m losing brain cells just being involved in th-this conversation,” he grumbled, sticking a tool into a metal machine. It sparked and whirred, drowning out Morty’s protests. “Go.”

Morty came up next to the workbench and Rick tensed. 

If Morty was not on the fence between frustration and sadness, maybe he would have been a little bit cocky because Rick thought Morty was going to try his game from yesterday again. Unfortunately, he was too conflicted to think about that.

“Rick,” he said again, for what felt like the millionth time. “I got accepted.”

“T-told you that I heard,” Rick did not look up. He grabbed his flask and began to down the vodka. He reached into his mini-fridge and pulled another bottle out. “M’not deaf, Morty.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, well congratulations. You got into a school whose acceptance rate is slightly above that of a community college,” Rick continued to mindlessly work, tone monotonous. “Go you.”

Morty twisted his hands together as he glared over at his grandpa. “Is this about—”

“Why do you always think everything is about something else?” Rick turned around, looking him in the eye now and Morty decided he preferred when he wasn’t looking at him. Now, he could see how upset and conflicted even Rick felt. “Maybe I just have more important things to deal with.”

“L-like what, Rick?”

“Oh, oh like—like being the greatest scientific mind of all time, maybe? Couldn’t guess that with your college-bound micro-brain?” Rick growled. “Did you ever think of that? Now fuck off, Morty.”

Morty watched as his grandpa drank what was in his flask before reaching in his fridge for another. Morty knew that tonight would be one of _those_ nights for Rick. A night where he was more drunk than usual, which Morty used to not believe was possible. However, Rick adored proving people wrong; he proved people wrong with this one by getting drunk to the point where he would hallucinate or pass out.

Sighing, Morty turned away. He knew that would go poorly.

 

***

 

Morty woke to the loud sounds in the hallway. He saw a light flicker on before, seconds later, his door burst open. The noise alone made him jump.

“O-one more adventure, M-Morty,” Rick said, shaking him furiously. “C’mon, Morty! O-one more adventure, Morty.”

Morty sat up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get even the slightest grasp as to what was going on. He couldn’t see anything for a moment as he tried to figure out what was happening around him. Then, he saw Rick standing over him, appearing wide awake for such a late hour. “R-Rick? What the _hell_ is going on?”

He was standing on the edge of the bed, looking even more odd than usual. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was a wild mess; he reeked of alcohol. “One more adventure, Morty! L-Let’s go, Morty! One m-more!”

“Geez, Rick, are you okay?”

“N-never better. Now, come on, Morty. One more adventure!” He repeated before grabbing a firm hold on Morty’s wrist. He proceeded to yank Morty to his feet, mumbling things frantically under his breath; the boy, on the older hand, was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Wh-where we goin’?” Morty yawned tiredly, still trying to adjust to the light. 

“Ad-adventure, Morty. We’re going’ on an adventure,” Rick said, sounding like a broken record. “One more, Morty.”

Rick, with eyes disoriented and hazy, pulled out his portal gun. He aimed it and pressed the button, allowing the green portal to open in Morty’s room. He grabbed onto Morty and pulled him through it without any further warning. This was the moment that Morty had actually become aware of his surroundings when the familiar feeling him around took hold as he was pulled through the portal; Rick had not been joking.

They landed on the other side of the portal in a strange dimension that Morty did not think he had seen before. The sky here was a bright purple, strange patterns covering the sky. The soil underground was unusually soft, as though they were walking on art clay.

Around them were random blue alien-like creatures. Many of them were foaming at the mouth, equipped with various weapons like guns and bombs. Almost the moment that they stepped foot through the portal, Morty could hear loud noises coming from behind him. It took him only a few seconds to realize that they were being _shot_ at.

He jumped with a cry. “Geez, Rick!” He tried to dodge away from the aim of the strange creatures, suddenly very awake. He turned around to face his grandpa, who still had a strange look pasted on his face. He was pale and he had a sort of sick, forced half-smile.

Morty was unsure if he felt disoriented because he had woken up not ten minutes ago or if perhaps even Rick was unsure of why they were there. Although he was moving quickly, he lacked any sort of sense of direction and was not yelling about something that needed to be done. Instead, he was letting out low mumbles and occasional laughs as though he were forcibly trying to lighten the mood.

Random as their adventures seemed to be, there usually was some motive for going to another dimension for Rick.

“Wh-why are we here, Rick?” Morty tried to catch his breath, putting his hands on his knees as they turned a corner to avoid being shot at. "And why now?"

“Why not? Quit being a Jerry,” Rick looked at him, growling lowly, before taking a swig of his drink. “It’s fun. I-I wanted to go on an adventure, Morty! It’s been so-so long, Morty.”

“What do these things want?” Morty looked cautiously around the corner. The big blue alien creatures with strange faces were still making overzealous attempts to shoot at them, sounding thrilled by the idea. They made odd spluttering noises as they moved.

Rick looked even more out of it now as he drank from his flask, hands shaking wildly. He let out a short laugh. “Who the hell knows?” 

“S-so, you portaled us here for—for no reason?” Morty stared at him, eyes wide.

“No, because it’d be fun, you little d-dipshit,” Rick belched. “Never thought I’d complain about this, but quit being such a tight-ass.”

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Morty said. “Doing this just for _attention_. For no reason.”

“I just told you—”

Rick went down when a bullet suddenly lodged itself in his side. Morty swore, hurrying over to him and dropping beside him to survey the damage. Rick was sitting on the ground, grimacing, with his hand over the now-bleeding wound.

“Son of a _bitch_!” Rick grabbed his side, favoring himself. “Oh, God damn it.”

One of the blue alien-like things was now squealing with victory behind them, sounding very much excited.

“R-Rick! Oh geez, Rick, oh geez,” Morty managed, borderline hyperventilating. He pressed his hand down onto the wound as he simultaneously tried to drag Rick out of their sight.

“How many fucking,” Rick ground his teeth together, squeezing his eyes shut. “How many fucking _times_ can I get shot in the goddamn liver and still be able to drink?”

“Not sure, but I’m sure you’ll test it when we get back home,” Morty threw back.

“Shut the fuck up, you little cock sucker,” Rick yanked on his hair. “H-Help me, Morty,” he added, but this time he sounded a lot quieter. “Hurts like a bitch. G-get my first aid kit.”

“Geez, Rick. Don’t you have something a little more… advanced?”

“What, do you think I can _magic_ the wound away, Morty? I’m a genius, not a wizard,” He said, but the insult came off weaker than usual as he continued to try to stop the bleeding. “N-now go get it!” 

Morty scrambled back to the ship, pushing the door open. He began beginning to scramble around through Rick’s stuff. His mind was working slowly and quickly all at once, his only thoughts _oh God oh God oh God_ until he found a simple first aid kit. 

A little more basic than usual for Rick, but Morty was not concerned about the complexity of it all but moreso Rick.

He brought it back and crouched beside Rick. His grandpa helped, with trembling hands, to unwrap the gauze and press it against the wound. 

“What about the bullet, Rick?” Morty asked.

“D-don’t worry about that,” Rick said. “These things have bullets that only cause pain. The bullet eventually falls apart into your bloodstream. Some side effects, b-but that’s it.”

“Side effects?”

“W-worry about that later, M-Morty!” Rick grumbled, pressing his hand down over the gauze. “Maybe when I’m not bleeding all over goddamn the floor as a prime example.”

“Don’t talk to me like this is my fault!” Morty stammered. “I mean, g-geez, you were the one who was feeling a bit of wanderlust at two in the morning.”

Rick growled irritably and continued to hold the gauze in place until the bleeding slowed. Morty leaned over him to make sure that the wound was clearing up a bit. “This was stupid, Rick, y-you know that, right?”

“Nothing I do is stupid, Morty,” the older man replied in a gruff voice.

“Well this was,” Morty said. “You could have died. Just—just to pull an adventure out of the sky like this. There wasn’t even a real reason to come to this dimension.”

“I admit nothing,” Rick held his side and forced himself into a sitting position. He groaned. “Those things should be gone by now. They usually only attack once.”

Rick then sat back, running his hands through his hair as he tipped his chin back in exasperation. Morty, on the other hand, sat a few feet away from him. He expected him to say something else after all of that, but all he was getting from him was silence. It was worse than the insults.

“R-Rick are you, okay?” 

Rick took another drink, his eyes glossy. “Never really thought we’d—we’d have a last adventure,” he said, looking away.

Morty glared at him.

“D-don’t give me that look, you piece of fucking cock-sucking shit,” Rick snapped. “I know it could hardly be considered an adventure. I fucking tried something, though, didn’t I?”

Morty’s grandpa was evidently more drunk than usual. He was stuttering more than he typically would, could hardly sit up, and his eyes were barely focused. Morty could only assume that was due to the alcohol, but he knew there was more on Rick’s mind than he cared to let on.

“I-Is it because I’m going to college, Rick?”

Rick let out a humorless laugh, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “N-no, Morty. Don’t be fucking stupid. I don’t care.”

Morty watched as his grandpa grabbed another flask from inside of his lab coat, effortlessly putting it down. He let out a belch and leaned forward, putting his head into his hands.

“R-Rick and Morty one hundred years, remember?” He asked, sounding suddenly more sober and more drunk at the same time. 

“Y-yeah, sure, Rick,” Morty said. “Course I remember.”

“Then, w-why the fuckin’ hell you leavin’?”

After all the chaos seemed to cease, the silence between them seemed even greater than the dimension. “Did you really bring us to a random dimension—just as an attempt at a last adventure? No other reason?” Morty answered his question with a question.

He was answered with silence. “Rick?”

“Yes! Is that wh-what you want me to say?” Rick slammed the flask down. “You got to tear it out of me, you _fucking_ asshole? Yes!”

Morty fell silent, studying his shoes. “I still don’t know why you’d do this,” Morty said. “You could have gotten hurt.”

Rick grunted. “Don’t give a fuck. It was stupid, I guess, to try to have another adventure. Not the same.”

Morty flinched at the harsh tone of his words. He knew that Rick was upset about this, but even after all this he could not for the life of him understood why. The complexity of their relationship was becoming too much for him.

“Why do you care if I go to college?” he asked; it came off as neutral as the sentence could be. “You always said, there are dozens of Mortyies. In infinite universes. Can’t you, y’know, borrow one of them? Use them—”

“N-no, you little fuck, I can’t.” He belched.

“Why?”

“Cause I don’t want those Morties” He said, turning to look at Morty. He seemed less angry now, just more all-out-drunk. He jabbed a finger against his chest. “Just this Morty. My M-Morty.”

Morty looked at him with stinging eyes. Throughout their adventures, Rick had always made it pointedly clear that there were thousands of Morty’s in infinite verses; that he was not special; that he only cared about himself. He wanted to tell himself it was the alcohol talking, but somehow he thought the alcohol was the one encouraging Rick to open up.

He continued, “I’m a-fucking-fraid of all of this. I want to get close to you but I—I can’t because you’re leaving.”

Morty understood more now why Rick had been so quick to send him away after they had fucked. The idea made his heart heavy.

“I’m such an emo piece of shit when I’m drunk,” Rick interrupted his thoughts, allowing his head to fall into his hands. “I need to g-go home, Morty. Bring us home, Morty.”

Morty scooted in. “It’s not just college, though, right Rick? It’s also what happened—y’know. Maybe we should talk about this some more.”

“Quit being my wife and drive,” Rick crossed his arm; his insult sounded half-hearted.

Rick handed Morty the keys to the ship. He stood up and nearly fell over. Morty ducked under his arm to help hold him up, guiding him to the passenger seat of the ship. 

Morty gave in with a sigh. “O-okay, Rick,” Morty comforted weakly. He climbed in beside Rick, who looked worn and exhausted. “W-we’re going home.”

Rick fell asleep on the ride home, his head leaning against the window. He would occasionally murmur things under his breath or wake up, trying to find Morty with grabby hands before falling back asleep. Morty hated seeing his grandpa like this. Recently, he had been going back and forth between being angrily guarded like usual or appearing immeasurably sad with no explanation.

The ride took longer than usual. It took Morty several times to get them into the right dimension with the gun before he got it right.

When they got home, Morty tried to help him out of the ship. Rick glared at him when he woke him up and tried to shoo him away. The side effects that Rick had mentioned before must have been setting in because the moment that Rick made an attempt to get out of the car, his body shuddered, and he threw up over the side of the ship. 

Morty grimaced and crouched beside of Rick, trying to get close enough to press against him in a comforting manner. Rick hardly ever threw up, despite being an alcoholic, so this made Morty feel a sudden wave of sympathy for him. "It's okay, Rick," he said, once he finished. "Come on. You can brush your teeth and I'll help you lay down, okay?"

“I-I can fucking do it, Morty,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

“No, you can’t, R-Rick.”

Rick tried to peel Morty’s hands away hastily. “Already fuckin’ told you, I-I’m fine,” 

“Stop trying to act like you’re fine,” Morty said, sounding more frustrated now as he gripped Rick’s lab coat. His grandpa continued trying to walk, which resulted in him half dragging Morty across the garage. “You’re not fine.”

“I am,” He protested, his hand still over where the wound had been; like he had said, it had faded by now leaving a very nauseous Rick. “Let—let go of me, M-Morty.”

But Morty didn’t. Rick stopped complaining by the time that the kid had gotten him to the bathroom. His grandpa was becoming quieter with pure exhaustion, which was understandable after their _"adventure."_ Over the years, Morty had learned to recognize the expression on Rick's face; he was thinking very hard.

Morty gave him a few minutes to clean himself up, squeezing the tooth paste onto the toothbrush for him and helping him wash his face. He helped him take off his shoes and coat only to aid him into a pair of baggy pants and a tee. If Morty had not been so concerned about him, he might have blushed. When Rick was cleaned up, Morty helped him make his way back to the bedroom.

“You okay, Rick?” Morty asked. "You feeling any better now that you got that out of you?"

He let out a drowsy noise. “Mhm,” he said, sounding a bit disgruntled; Morty knew that he hated needing any one but he assumed he would let this one time slide. “M’good. Just tired. Wanna sleep and forget—fuck.”

Morty looked at him for a long time, a mixture of sympathy and sadness as he pressed into his grandpa for a hug. He was hardly awake anyway, lying down now; Morty was unsure if he was even processing what was going on.

After a while, Morty pulled away and wiped at his eyes. “Goodnight, Rick.”

Rick was evidently more awake than Mortg had realized. His hand came up to touch Morty’s arm before he could pull away entirely. “Yeah,” he yawned. M-Morty?”

“Yeah?”

“L-love you.”

Morty turned his head to look at him. He stared at his grandpa for a long time; Rick wasn’t looking back, just lying back on the bed with his flask in hand. “How drunk are you?” Morty asked finally. 

“Not,” Rick replied, “drunk enough.”

Morty didn’t say anything, waiting for his grandpa to take the lead. He didn’t want to do or say anything he would regret.

“Your very fucked up grandpa loves you,” Rick stuttered, belched, and slumped back down into his bed. He appeared more pale than usual, his face drained. “F-fucking piece of shit.”

Morty felt his heart tighten a bit, which he inwardly cursed. He didn’t speak for a long time and eventually, Rick even turned to look at him, assuming that he left because he didn’t answer. 

“I-I love you, too, Rick,” Morty said softly.

Rick shook his head, raising a hand. “N-no, you don’t—you don’t understand. I’m—” he belched. “I’m f-fucked up, Morty.”

“You think I don’t know exactly what you’re fucking talking about, R-Rick?” he asked suddenly, his face abruptly turning bright red. He wrung his hands together in a mixture of anxiety and frustration as he tried to get a hold of himself. “I-I let you fuck me, Rick. I wanted to. I wanted more and I still do.”

Rick was staring at him with such a glossed-over expression that it was becoming difficult for Morty to even tell if he was still awake or not. His eyes fluttered before he reached out and caught Morty’s shirt, tugging him close.

“Do you,” Rick started, “know why it’s so hard for me to open up?”

Morty sat down slowly, shaking his head.

“I am-I’ve always been afraid to open up to people. But especially to you, M-Morty,” Rick wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and Morty decided it was possible that he was also wiping his eyes. “Because you’ve already seen so many b-bad sides of me. And I don’t want you to see any more.”

“Rick…”

“I’m a bad person, M-Morty,” Rick said. “I’m a fucking piece of shit. I-I said that I’d never let my guard down,” he said, swinging his flask around and effectively getting liqueur over his shirt. “And here—here I am. And that’s so, so fucking hard when I know you’re leaving.”

Morty swallowed thickly, looking down.

“I just want what’s best for you, M-Morty,” Rick said, and then he was crying. Morty could only sit beside him, trying not to let the shock of seeing his grandpa cry cloud his ability to try to comfort him. He put his hand on his arm, taking away the flask and pulled him in.

“Aw man, R-Rick,” Morty chewed on his lower lip. “Don’t be upset. I know you’re trying to be the best you can be.”

“I’m bad, Morty,” Rick breathed against his neck. “I’m no good. I’m just not. I’ve done—I’ve seen more things than you can imagine. Things worse than our adventures. I’m no good.”

“Rick, stop saying that!” Morty grabbed onto his shirt. “Please just stop.”

“No, I c-can’t,” He said, looking around hopelessly. “Where’s my flask? I-I need to be more drunk for this right now.”

“No, Rick, you don’t.”

“I really do,” he groaned. “I’m horrible, Morty. I f-fucked you. I fucked you twice. _God_ , and I want to again,” Rick said, leaning close to Morty’s neck; he could smell the alcohol as his mouth grazed the skin there. “I want you. I-I actually care about you. I never tell you that, b-because the way I care is fucked up.”

Morty couldn’t say anything for a minute with Rick’s mouth on his neck, the same spot he had marked before. He instead focused on the words. “I want you too. I want this, R-Rick. There’s nothing wrong with it if we both want it.”

Rick shook his head, his mouth still against Morty’s neck. “Fuck, I just want you. So—so fucking bad,” he groaned. “Wanna fuck you. Touch you. I just want you.”

“You can have me,” Morty gasped, biting his lip. “Rick?”

“Yes?”

“Can you kiss me?”

Rick pressed his mouth against his, rough and messy because he was wildly drunk. He played with Morty’s hair as he tried to pull him in. Morty responded immediately, thankful, as he breathed sharply in. He pushed himself back against Rick as he made his best attempts to get closer to him. All this time he had been pushed away, he had not realized how badly he had wanted to touch Rick again. He had missed the sensation, which was oddly soothing.

“C-c’mon Rick, we can finish this tomorrow,” Morty pulled away, taking in a breath of hair and looked at Rick. He looked dazed, his eyes hazy in a content way. “Wanna sleep?”

“Yeah, Morty. Good—good idea, Morty.”

“I’ll lay with you, okay?”

“Okay, Morty.”

The older man wasted no time collapsing bonelessly backward onto the bed, and Morty followed suit.

“You know this is fucked up, right?” Rick asked, turning his face into Morty’s cheek so he could feel him. His hands found Morty’s small waist. “So many th-things are wrong with this.”

“Since when do you care about how fucked up something is?” Morty said, grinning

Rick gave a weak laugh. He pulled him closer, kissing him. “You got me there.”

 

***

 

Morty woke up the next morning a bit disoriented. He had forgotten where he was for a few seconds and sat up, breathing heavily, as he woke with a fright. “Wha—”

He let out a shaky breath when he realized that he had fall asleep with Rick, and _fuck_ , he hated how much he loved him. The older man was rousing from sleep then from Morty’s movement and afraid little noises.

“M-Morty?” He mumbled.

“S-sorry, Rick,” Morty said. The push and pull between them during the past few weeks had Morty in a panic. He hated getting close to Rick only to be pushed away.

Rick’s eyes were open now, looking at him wondrously. He had a hand on his head, which Morty could only assume was pounding from how much he had to drink yesterday.

Morty continued, his stutter growing out of control. “I shouldn’t have slept here—with you. I know you were drunk and—and you didn’t mean what you said last night. I-I—”

“Morty?”

“Yes?”

Rick exhaled. “I’m not good at apologies. Mostly because usually I don’t have anything to apologize for. But I shouldn’t have, y’know, fucking pushed you away. And,” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “And what I said last night—it’s still all true.”

“You—you mean you want to be with me?” Morty’s face went pink as he let out a little squeak.

“Like you said, this isn’t the most fucked up thing I’ve ever done,” Rick admitted, rolling his eyes. And then Morty felt his hand on his waist. 

“What about,” Morty paused, hating to bring it up. “What about college?”

Rick could only shrug, but he seemed content. "Like you said, y-you have to go, you know?"

Morty exhaled, turning his head. “You can come visit, Rick. Or—or maybe I could get an apartment off campus and you could come over on weekends,” he said hoarsely. “We could be alone.”

He could feel Rick shiver. “That would be so perfect. Just—can you promise you won’t go screwing around with other guys?," he asked. "I-I’d hate to have to kill one of your classmates.”

“Trust me, I’m yours,” Morty scooted onto his lap.

Rick moved forward to press his lips to the hollow of Morty’s neck, methodically sucking a bruise there before tracing over it with a finger. “ _Mine_.”

“And, if you go to any parties—you got to be safe, okay?” Rick held onto his waist, the other one finding a safe spot at the back of his neck. “N-no open drinks. Fuck, no drinking at all. B-be better than me, okay?”

“I’ll be careful, Rick,” Morty promised softly as he put his hand on Rick’s shoulders. “Promise.”

“Good,” Rick relaxed a bit.

“This—this okay with you, then?”

Rick exhaled and leaned, kissing him more gently than Morty could ever recall being touched by Rick. For them, the simple gesture was meaningful. “Yeah,” he said. “This is great.”

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't expect this to be this long, but I guess I really can't complain when I wrote it in five days. Also, writing their stutter is a pain in the ass so I did manage to water that down a bit. Thank you!
> 
> (S/o to my bff, my cousin, and asinner if you're reading this bc your fics are my lifeline)


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